Blessed by Ruination
by HauntedByPeace
Summary: The Ruinous Powers end up in RWBY, and are changed somewhat by the fundamental differences between this universe and their home one. This forces a change in perspective that unites them. Can I make a bunch of ancient and unknowable entities sympathetic? Rated M because I like my combat intense and because Slaanesh, who has only calmed down a little bit.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome.**

 **Please feel free to send me a message with any questions or feedback.**

 **This first chapter I believe to be the weakest overall, because the setup for a crossover is never not going to be contrived and cringe-worthy.  
**

How ironic that the day most feared in the Imperium would turn out to be the day of its greatest triumph.

The day the Golden Throne finally failed.

When the Golden Throne failed, it was in the middle of the Terran day.

All around the dying Emperor stood his Custodes, in silent vigil. Around the base of the Throne, the greatest minds of the Imperium battled tooth and nail to keep the machine running.

But slowly and inexorably, the great machine ground to a halt.

Moments before the end, the men working on the throne stood, shaking their heads in frustration.

They looked at the Emperor, saluting him for the last time.

One, driven mad by pure hopelessness, slit his throat with a sharp piece of metal.

And the Emperor died.

The Custodes maintained their silent vigil as his eyes slowly drifted closed.

Across the Imperium, Navigators clutched their faces and cried out in pain as the Astronomican disappeared from the warp.

In the warp, the Ruinous Powers rejoiced.

In the great throne room on Terra, the Custodes carefully removed the Emperor's lifeless body from the Golden Throne. They placed it in a sarcophagus of pure gold, which was free of decoration save for an Imperial Aquila on the lid. Carefully they began to carry it through the halls of the Imperial Palace, to be placed in the tomb prepared for it. There it would lie next to the far more ancient casket of Malcador the Hero, the Emperor's greatest servant, for as long as the Palace stood.

But, as the first Custodian turned to leave the great chamber, something _changed._

The procession stopped, all eyes turning to the Throne once more.

Then the Throne room filled with light.

Brighter than the sun it shone, and yet it did not dazzle, nor did it pain the eyes.

The light began to coalesce upon the Throne, swirling and dancing as it did.

And as the light finally faded, it revealed the figure of a man, seated upon the Throne.

Everyone in the chamber gazed in awe at the miraculous return of their lord.

But this was not the dried husk of a minute before.

This was the Emperor as he had appeared during the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago.

Clad in his Golden armour, he smiled upon his great creations, the Custodes, and the men who had given their all to prolong his life.

But then his gaze fell upon the dead man, lying in a pool of his own blood at the base of the throne.

The Emperor stood up, descending the steps to where the man lay.

He placed one glowing hand upon the limp form.

The corpse twitched and spasmed violently, then lay still.

The eyes of the once-dead man flickered open, and he looked up into the smiling face of the Emperor.

The Emperor helped the man to his feet, and then he stiffened.

Something, no, _SOMEONE_ , was missing.

He glanced about for his friend, and then memory returned.

Malcador was dead.

The Emperor looked down at the man he had just returned to life, and then he acted.

He cast his mind towards the Throne, mentally caressing each ancient component in his search.

There were the remnants of uncountable souls, but among those feeble things even the smallest fragment of what he looked for stood out.

He found what he was looking for.

A remnant, the smallest scrap of the blazing fire that had been his friend's soul.

Seizing the remnant, the Emperor fanned the flame until it glowed once more.

Bending his entire might to the task, the Emperor breathed new life into his long-dead friend.

But a soul without a body is nothing.

The Emperor, with the merest thought, warped reality itself into a from more pleasing to him.

And there stood Malcador.

Not the husk that had been left by the Throne, not even the old man that had accompanied the Emperor on the Crusade so many millennia ago. This was Malcador in his prime.

Malcador looked around him, apparently unfazed by his death and subsequent return to life.

He looked up at the smiling face of his softly glowing friend, and smiled.

"Well, at least you will not have to reconquer the ENTIRE galaxy this time." He said.

The Emperor laughed at this, then spoke:

"No, _WE_ won't. But first…"

The Emperor rose into the air, gathering his unimaginable might. Then, he snapped his fingers.

Across the galaxy, weeping Navigators dried their tears, turning their eyes to distant Terra.

A wave of golden light blasted forth from the cradle of Mankind, sweeping aside the warp storms that filled it.

And the clarity left behind was filled with the light of a new Astronomican.

Not the steady glow of the old, this new guiding light filled the galaxy.

Each world glowed with its own radiance, with guiding lines of golden light connecting them.

Then the Emperor himself entered the warp.

With his newfound might, he eclipsed the entities of the warp.

The very Ruinous Powers found themselves powerless to escape his grasp.

The Emperor closed his hand upon them, crushing them.

But they did not die.

These creatures of emotion made flesh could not be extinguished.

The Emperor glanced about the warp, until his gaze found a small crack.

Several of these dotted the Warp, and the Emperor grasped the nearest.

With all his might, he pushed at the crack, tearing it wide.

And into this tear in reality he flung his enemies.

As they hurtled into the abyss, each seized their most prized possession.

Nurgle seized his prised cauldron, Slaanesh its Jade Sceptre, and Tzeentch his everchanging Robe. Khorne, already holding _Woebringer_ , reached out to seize his favourite champion, Kharne.

And then all was oblivion for the Ruinous powers.


	2. Chapter 2

Khorne fell into the tear in the warp, but refused to give the Great Enemy the satisfaction of screaming.

Then all was nothingness.

To his surprise, he felt sensation return.

Cold.

Darkness and cold.

This Warp, if it was a Warp, was empty of the life of Khorne's home.

No daemons swam in its currents, no warp storms disturbed its tranquillity.

All was darkness and cold.

Far, far in the distance was the very faintest speck of light. Light that promised the possibility of continued existence.

Khorne made his way towards the distant flicker of hope.

The cold tore at his form, robbing him of his energy. As he travelled, his power, his strength, even the anger that was his very identity began to fade.

Finally, the shrivelled husk that was once the great god Khorne reached the flicker.

A single populated world in the sea of stars.

There was anger to be found here, and battle. But nothing like the waves of war that permeated the old Warp.

Khorne settled around this tiny world, barren of life by the standards of his previous home, and for the first time in his existence he felt something other than rage. He felt sorrow for what he had lost.

Around the planet, he found that Nurgle had reached it before him. Just like all those aeons ago when he had been born to find the pre-existing Nurgle.

Neither had even the strength to fight the other.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Tzeentch, and then finally Slaanesh arrived.

These four once great powers surrounded this one, feeble source of life and mourned their lost empires.

These beings that had warred and bickered for countless generations of men were at last united in one emotion: Loss.

Time passed, and their rate of energy loss stabilised with the meagre amounts they were absorbing from the planet.

At long last, Tzeentch broke the silence.

"Brothers, we have been defeated. On the day that even I anticipated to be our greatest triumph."

There was silent accord.

"We have before us one decision."

Confusion followed this statement.

Then the Changer of the Ways began to paint a picture with words:

 _The world below fell into chaos, war struggling with disease and hedonism as plots were plotted until no life remained. And then the four died, fading slowly into the cold abyss._

At any other time, none would have listened to him. But the all-encompassing cold punctuated his word in an unprecedented way.

"And yet, brothers, that is not the only path before us."

Once again, he described a possible future:

 _The four remained around the small world, subsisting on its meagre yield for untold aeons until, finally, the sun grew sick and died, taking the world with it. Then, again, there was cold, and the slow death it brought._

Such a pitiful existence appealed to none of them. Surely it would be better to enjoy one last banquet before the end? Hungry eyes turned to the planet below.

Tzeentch spoke once more, forestalling the feeding frenzy.

"But there is another path. One of my own devising:"

The Architect laid his great plan before them:

 _He described the world below them, and the four of them listened with rapt attention as he outlined a populous and rich world. Here and there was war, and in some other places famine and disease. And some men schemed, and others sought pleasure. But never did these things interfere with the progress of the PLAN. In time, the people of this world left its embrace and began to expand. Slowly but surely their empire grew, until it spanned the galaxy. Then, slowly, it transcended even that. Galaxy after GALAXY was added to its expanse, until the people born of this small world dotted millions of worlds in thousands of galaxies._

 _Here and there was war, and in some other places famine and disease. And some men schemed, and others sought pleasure._

 _And yet all these small parts added to form a whole far greater than even their power in the previous galaxy had been._

 _And the four celebrated together, enjoying the fruits of their labour. Power unimaginable even to them was theirs._

 _And then, when the stars began to burn out, as the life seeped out of the universe, the four of them came together, pooling their unimaginable power into one spot:_

 _A crack in the warp, much like the one they had been banished through._

 _And into it they journeyed. Not in defeat, as when the Great Enemy had banished them, but with dignity. And on the other side of the hole was yet another universe, still young and vibrant with uncountable aeons remaining in its lifetime._

 _Here they placed seeds of life carefully selected from the previous universe, and the cycle began anew: with a single world._

The magnitude of this plan astounded them.

Tzeentch glowed with delight at this new plan, greater in scope than any plan that had ever existed or would ever exist.

The four looked at each other.

Must they truly fight each other for power and influence, when cooperation could yield an infinity of power, and a future without limit?

Many things these creatures of emotion were.

But one thing they were not: Stupid.

Not even Tzeentch would betray when he stood to gain INFINITLY more through cooperation.

Now: Psychologists claim that cooperation on an agreed upon project for an agreed upon purpose is one of the marks of a sapient being. Thus, when the four Ruinous Powers became the four Great Powers, and began to follow an agreed upon plan, they answered once and for all the question of whether or not they were sapient beings capable of acting independently of their nature.

And as they turned their attention towards the small planet below them, this small blue-green planetoid with its shattered moon that, unbeknownst to any of its inhabitants, had been chosen to be the seed for the greatest empire that would ever exist, an empire that would span eternity, only one thing was certain:

For the four Great Powers, the future was bright.


	3. Chapter 3

Aureate Autarch rolled over in his bed. Beside him his wife slept soundly, but sleep continued to elude him.

He stood up, walking to the balcony and gazing out at the night sky.

Sleep had been distant ever since his father had died, leaving him as sole ruler of Tarchi.

His small kingdom was surrounded by enemies, and they would be watching for any sign of weakness.

He would need to meet with the Schnee representative tomorrow, after the official coronation.

His heart burned with hatred. He would have to cede even more of his country's mineral rights to those cold-blooded businessmen. But without more Atlesian weaponry, he couldn't stand up to his neighbours.

He clenched his fists.

They knew it too.

They were the reason for it, after all.

They had plunged the region into a war that could only be survived by giving them more and more land, more and more resources.

"Yes. And there is nothing you can do." Came a voice from behind him.

He spun, to find a robed figure behind him.

"Ha! So the Schnee have picked my replacement already, have they?"

The figure laughed, the sound shaking Aureate to his core.

"Let me change the emphasis. I meant to say that there is nothing YOU can do."

 _Aureate's mind raced. An assassin would have killed him without revealing their presence. A Schnee representative? Probably not. He was meeting with those anyway._

"No, I'm not an assassin. Not a Schnee either."

 _Could this man read his mind? A hunter then, with a semblance?_

"I am not quite a hunter."

 _He could read his mind. Or at least his face to such a degree that the difference was meaningless. But what did he want? And what did he mean when he said there was nothing Aureate could do? Could he do something, then?_

"Yes. In fact, there is a great deal I can do. But I don't intend to do it for free."

 _Ah, yes. The crux of the matter. Even if this stranger could help, merely replacing the Schnee would do nothing._

"You misunderstand. What I want is merely, to put it in crude terms, a cut of the profits. A small cut too."

 _This was new. This man was in a position where a small portion of the country's income would be little reward for what would need to be done to preserve the country._

"You cut straight to the heart of this issue. However, I intend to make Tarchi grow until a small cut will more than suffice. In exchange, I want five percent."

 _This was intriguing. Either the man was mad, or he was the greatest blessing Aureate could have asked for. But what did he mean by five percent?_

"Five percent of EVERYTHING. The land, the taxes, the trees, the dust. Everything. Rest assured I will not insist on being paid in advance. Rather, if I do what I promise, you will set aside one twentieth of the rewards, for me to call for at any time for any reason."

For the first time since the "conversation" started, Aureate spoke:

"Very well. I will give anything for the safety of my people. But you forget: You promise a great deal. And you have no proof of your ability to provide any of it."

Again, the laugh came. The horrible sound tore at Aureate's ears.

"Your men are watching the borders, are they not? Camped a day from your southernmost border, one of your rivals has assembled a great army to crush you. Your men have yet to discover it's presence."

 _Ah. Jakku was making his move, then. Not a surprise, really, given the increased Schnee presence in his territory recently._

"Come dawn, your men will discover their corpses. Consider it a token of goodwill on our part, as well as the proof you seek."

 _Undeniable proof, too. And, depending on the means, an alternative source of weapons to shore up the defences._

"Indeed. Although I feel I must apologise in advance. Most of the equipment will be rather… _wet_. Choose some men with strong stomachs."

And with a rustle like a shifting sand-dune, he vanished.

Miles Certus looked down at his map.

He had almost reached the coordinates marked on it, which looked like they would be inside a ravine up ahead.

His spirit swelled with pride. He had been chosen to personally lead this scouting mission, which had been sent through secret channels by the king himself.

The eastern horizon was starting to brighten. They would need to hurry.

He nodded to his second, and the dozen dunehoppers sprang to life.

These curious vehicles, developed specifically for desert use during the Great War, resembled a motorcycle with wide tracks where the wheels ought to be.

They rode across the rocky foothills of the Conlis mountain range, eager to reach their destination before the sun truly unleashed its fury.

Miles estimated another five minutes' journey, when they turned a corner to find themselves face-to-face with a boxy military vehicle.

The men were well-trained. Knowing themselves to be in enemy territory (as well as borders could be defined in the desert), they did not hesitate. All dozen dunehoppers skidded to a stop, experienced drivers turning them as they slowed and ducking behind their machines for cover.

But no fusillade of bullets ricocheted off their vehicles.

No voices called to them to identify themselves.

After a minute's silence, Miles barked an order:

"Haller, go!"

Haller, the most heavily armoured of the group, began to slowly make his way towards the vehicle, ducking from cover to cover as far as he could before making the final 50-meter dash to the silent, unmoving vehicle.

He carefully picked his way around the vehicle to the far side, concealed from sight by the body of the vehicle.

An instant later, he leapt back around the corner and pressed himself up against it, rifle pointed back in the direction he'd come from.

Hands tightened on gun grips as his comrades prepared to provide covering fire for his dash back to the dunehoppers, but then he stood up and slung his rifle back over his shoulder.

He called back to the visibly relaxing men:

"All clear. But you need to see this!"

Dunehoppers were re-mounted as the party converged upon the vehicle.

The sand on the far side was stained red for a pace from the large side-door, which stood open.

The stench of blood not many hour old clung to the interior, which looked like a madman's dream of hell.

The interior of the vehicle had been reupholstered in its former occupants. At least a dozen men's worth of shredded corpses adorned every surface.

Miles and his men were veterans, hardened in war by years of service.

One of them barely managed to get his face-covering desert wraps off before he emptied his stomach on the sand.

The others were visibly shaken.

"Grimm?" asked one.

"Grimm would've trashed the inside. From what I can see, nothing's been touched 'cept…"

Miles pulled himself together. Their objective was unchanged, and the sun had almost fully risen.

"Mount and ride, men! Our orders have not changed."

All were glad to leave the gruesome spectacle behind.

Barely a minute had passed before they discovered the next horrific death.

A motorcycle lay abandoned at the end of a bloody line stretching almost a kilometre before disappearing around a large rock formation, a skeletal mess of blood and bone that had clearly once been a man attached to it by a few metres of chain.

The blood trail happened to coincide with the line Miles had plotted on his map as leading to their destination.

As the men followed the trail of bloody scraps carpeting the ground to its end, they came to a camp clearly intended to serve as an early warning of approaching danger, with a barricade and rows of sandbags obstructing their progress.

Ironic, how all the corpses were facing away from the defences, back towards whatever they were guarding.

This scene of slaughter differed slightly from the scene in the vehicle.

Each man had been killed with a single cut. Some corpses were missing heads, others had been divided into roughly equal sections from shoulder to opposite hip or straight down the middle.

One large vehicle was missing, the camouflage net it had once stood under now vacant. Nearby there was a gap in the line of six motorcycles.

"Okay, this is just disturbing. All these men dead, and not a single sign of an attacker, alive or dead." Haller said.

One of the younger members ventured: "Maybe they took their dead with them?"

"No, each bloodstain has a corpse on it. No extras."

Miles felt his men's morale droop. He glanced around for anything to lift their spirits. He realised something, though he himself wasn't sure of what it meant.

"Look, men. These men were clearly guarding something in that direction, " he gestured in the direction they had been travelling since they had left camp "from unexpected surprises coming from the direction we just came from. However, whatever or whoever killed them came from behind them. Some of them escaped in the first vehicle we saw, but at least one attacker gave chase. We didn't see whether that motorcycle we found was still operational, but I'll wager it ran out of fuel or something. These corpses aren't more than a day old, or they'd have started to bloat already."

He paused, and some of the men nodded, agreeing with his reasoning.

"Now, our objective comes straight from the palace. Since it lies behind this guard post, we will assume for the moment that our objective is what these men were guarding."

He paused once more, trying to find any gaps in his reasoning before deciding there weren't any obvious ones.

"Judging by the important nature of our objective and the short time frame we were given, I will assume that these men were, in fact, guarding our objective. The fact that only a handful of us were sent indicates, to me, that unless Command was unaware of these guards, they expected them to be dead."

Some puzzled faces met his gaze.

"I therefore surmise that these men were killed by someone unconnected to our military, but someone favourably disposed towards our nation. This unrelated force had some reason to kill these men, and felt they'd strengthen ties with Tarchi by contacting the King, or someone in the court, and asking if Tarchi was interested in whatever these men were guarding. The King then ordered Command to send someone to check if all these men were dead, us, and if they are I suppose a larger force will be sent upon us confirming their death to seize what they were guarding."

His men's faces brightened. Potential military gains for Tarchi, the death of Tarchi's enemies and a powerful potential ally? Nothing could be better for men as patriotic as these.

"So we should hurry, as the danger for us lies not in dead men but in the live men who may be coming." Stated Sophos, the oldest man in the group.

The men looked to Miles for confirmation, and he answered by leaping on his dunehopper and setting out towards their objective.

They reached it before a quarter of an hour had passed.

A wide valley stretched before them, with a river running through it.

Most of the valley was filled with an army encampment, though the remains of a mine of some kind occupied the remaining space.

Miles went pale at the sight of the hundreds of tents and temporary buildings that filled the valley. Such a force within a few hours of Tarchi's border? Then he realised the danger he and his men were in.

Even as he swung his dunehopper, the morning breeze shifted and he froze.

Blood.

The valley was saturated with the sanguine scent of death.

He turned his machine back towards the camp, pulling out a small but powerful pair of binoculars.

Nowhere was there movement to be seen.

Waving his hand for his men to follow him, he set off down the gentle incline of the valley towards the silent tents.

A handful of minutes later Miles and his men were staring, ashen white and with set teeth, at the nightmare scene that filled the camp.

Death was everywhere.

Dead men lay in heaps outside the tents, in the path between the tents and between the temporary buildings.

Much like the scene back at the guard post, all seemed to have been killed by edged weapons rather than bullets.

Looking around, Miles was sure that this camp had been intended for an assault on Tarchi. Tanks and personnel vehicles stood in neat rows, with numerous field artillery pieces.

Like all weapons war-torn central Vacuo, the weapons and equipment were old Atlas military surplus, most from back when the country had been called Mantle.

Miles fell into a chair inside one of the mess tents, where no bodies lay.

The scale of the slaughter astounded him.

At least two thousand men had been killed here.

And not a single body lay inside a tent or building.

In the armoury buildings, racks of weapons and ammo stood, clean and ready to fire.

In the administration buildings radio and computer equipment stood in pristine condition.

The dust-powered generators were in perfect working order, or so one of his men claimed.

Miles toyed with the encrypted communicator he'd been issued for the mission.

He didn't want to report.

He certainly wouldn't believe the report he would have to give.

He steeled his nerves and activated the device.

He gave his identifying code, and the codewords he'd been given.

Then he reported, in simple terms, what he and his men had found.


	4. Chapter 4

Aureate read the report with a mixture of shock and intrigue.

Though his men had finished clearing out the corpses and occupying the camp (a personal royal decree had been sent asking for volunteers, as he hadn't wanted men forced into such a place of death), the matter was still far from concluded.

His neighbour had already sent messages decrying the slaughter, but that had been easy to ignore. Such accusations were far from uncommon in the turbulent region Tarchi was situated in.

Rather, it was the HOW that interested him.

The camp was completely intact, and his men had simply moved in with little alteration needed.

To kill so many men, without a distress signal being sent or anything being damaged, was frightening.

He was startled out of his seat by the now-familiar but still unsettling voice in the night.

"Greetings. I trust our little demonstration will suffice for the immediate future?"

"Quite, thank you. Although it has done nothing to stabilise the political situation."

He couldn't hide the tremor in his voice. He had taken care to have many extra guards on duty, and the room he currently found himself in had no windows.

"Good. Then we can proceed to the plan."

The stranger stepped further away from Aureate, leaning against the wall of the new study.

"What plan?"

"On the table in front of you."

Aureate turned to find a massive tome on the table, on top of the documents he had been reading.

The tome was bound in leather, with a strange symbol resembling an eight-pointed star on the cover.

He opened tome to find thick, parchment-like pages covered in elegant, handwritten script.

Turning to ask the stranger its purpose, he found the room empty.

He turned his attention back to the pages, finding the text easy to read and in uncomplicated, though not simple, language.

The introductory chapter, which preceded the table of contents, identified the text as a complete guide to altering Tarchi in every way, from the laws to the society.

An additional note in very large letters on the page opposite the table of contents stipulated that the instructions were to be followed in the order they appeared in, and without deviation.

No threats were in evidence, but the nature of the note and the "demonstration" served as one.

Aureate cursed these mysterious people who were ordering him around, but was nervous enough about the stranger's ability to bypass his guards to at least turn the page and start reading.

An indeterminable amount of time passed as he sat, reading the words written on the pages with mixed surprise and shock.

Each action to be taken was followed by a brief explanation of the reasoning behind it and its short and long-term effects, followed by a note as to the precise period of time that needed to elapse before the next action was taken.

Often notes of FUTURE EVENTS appeared, including their ramifications and what his public reaction should be.

Laws to be passed included notes on their precise wording and how they might be misinterpreted.

After several dozen pages and about a month's worth of events, the pages became unintelligible, save for the topmost line of script, which read:

"No man should know too much of the future."

Aureate sat back in shock.

The clock on the desk indicated that four hours had passed.

It would be time for supper soon, but food was the furthest thing from Aureate's mind.

If the stranger was to be believed, he had in front of him a complete guide to his reign.

He had a strange feeling that the last sentence on the last page would be: "And then die."

The magnitude of this event sat on his shoulders, feeling like the world itself would be easier to bear.

Who was the stranger?

He looked again at the weighty tome.

He could either follow it, or he could refuse to surrender his agency to a document.

He had a sinking feeling that the second option would lead to a similar tome being presented to his heir at his funeral, which would likely not be far off.

Mind racing, Aureate left the room and tome to have dinner with his family.

The next day dawned to find Aureate once again reading the book.

He was genuinely intrigued by the path laid out in it.

A detailed plan for modernising his nation was in evidence, with guidelines for how to design the school system and curriculum in a way he was sure was unprecedented in all of history.

The situation was not nearly as dire as he had thought it the previous night.

Even without the unknowable threat these people posed, the tome was filled with excellent advice. The reasoning behind all the decisions made logical sense, and none that he could see would be detrimental to his people.

The path laid out seemed to be one leading to prosperity.

However, one thing remained.

Money.

Nothing was free, and decisions as weighty as these would be very expensive.

Most of his country's income was produced by the many mines that dotted his domain, but that income was dictated by nature. In fact, the looming threat of the mines being exhausted was ever-present in in Tarchi.

That aside, the vast majority of the budget was devoted to military expenditures and food imports.

The fertile soil of his nation was useless without the water to irrigate it, and rain was rare.

Even if he followed the plan laid out, he would likely drive the country into the ground doing so.

That being said, the short term instructions were simple, and even taken by themselves would be a boon to his nation.

Reforms to the system of taxation, some minor adjustments to the legal code that would close legal loopholes and restructuring of the bureaucracy likely to simplify and rationalise the structure of his government.

These actions he would begin taking immediately.

There was no cost attached, and it would cement his image as a decisive and wise ruler. His recent ascension to power left him with no precedents for people to look to, which left his people wondering what kind of ruler he would be.

He stood up, book tucked under his arm.

Today would be a busy day.


	5. Chapter 5

**So it appears the story is being well received.**

 **I would like to address** Commissar Carl **,** **one of the people who has reviewed this story at time of upload:**

 **Yes I am quite aware of Slaanesh's nature, Yes I promise I will try and come up with something more interesting than you fear.**

* * *

Aureate and his wife, Gratia, were enjoying a rare moment of quiet companionship, cuddling on the day-bed in the palace's solarium.

He had done a great many things since dawn. The reforms had been issued and well-received. The people had been informed of every change through the government information bureau, and the country as a whole felt reassured as to the wisdom and good intent of their new ruler.

Now was the perfect time to lay in the afternoon sun, draw the love of his life close, and indulge in a nap.

Which made the appearance of the stranger on the balcony all the more ill-timed.

Aureate made to get up, when the stranger motioned for him to lie down and vanished after stepping behind a pillar.

Still, even his well-deserved rest was marred by the knowledge that the man was waiting for him.

And his head spun with questions he needed to ask.

But he forced them aside and returned to the business of relaxing with his wife.

It was with no small amount of dread that he followed the corridor to his study, two hours later.

The stranger, as he expected, awaited him in the room that had been locked and under guard when he reached it.

He closed the thick door and turned his chair to face the stranger.

"Excellent. You have demonstrated willingness to follow the path we intend for you."

"I will not do anything to harm my country."

For the first time, Aureate gathered his will and spoke with the man.

"We do not mean for your country to be harmed. We need it strong and productive as much as you do."

"Then we have an understanding."

"Yes."

That left the matter of resources, but the stranger once again demonstrated his apparent ability to read Aureate's mind.

"Worry not about resources. Your mind will be at easy before the sun sets."

 _A bold claim, but this man's claims have been reliable thus far._

"Remember two things. The rewards of loyalty are many, and we will provide what is required to fulfil our plans."

And with that, the stranger was gone once more.

Aureate had barely had time to turn back to the desk before a knock on the door was heard.

A secretary entered, bearing several manila folders bearing reports.

All the machinery of governance in Tarchi was highly autonomous, leaving only the most important decisions to the king. As such, all reports he received were of vital importance.

He opened the first, concern giving way to disbelief as he read the first page.

A gold mine to the north of the capital that had been struggling to meet its production goals for many months had, only that morning, discovered a new vein of extraordinary purity. If nothing went wrong, this month and many months to come would see enormous yields of the valuable metal.

 _This will have to be carefully managed. If the gold is revealed and sold too quickly the price will go down and the global economy may be disturbed._

He wrote an order instructing the mine to continue as normal, but to keep any above-average production a closely guarded secret.

In great spirits, he began to open the rest of the folders.

He sat wide-eyed as each, in turn, informed him of some great positive development in his country.

The last one concerned the mine that had been captured along with the military camp only days earlier.

The report indicated vast amounts of easily accessible, high quality dust.

The implications of this staggered him.

The Schnee Dust Company held an almost total monopoly on dust, and ruthlessly fought to keep it. The Schnees set the price for every vial of the stuff bought and sold in every city.

And the world tolerated such behaviour because without dust, even at the ridiculous prices all but the least pure forms sold for, humanity was doomed.

If he could KEEP the mine, and see that it was properly developed, his government would have an incredible source of fuel and ammunition, in addition to a massive bargaining chip against the SDC.

That, added to the massive wealth that would soon result from the events that had prompted the reports on his desk would catapult Tarchi into a golden age of prosperity.

Stunned at the good fortune, he left his study to pace through the palace corridors.

A noise caught his attention.

A steady rushing sound coming from the exterior wall.

 _A burst water main?_

He reached a window and gazed out at the pouring rain.

Rain that was falling in the middle of the dry season.


	6. Chapter 6

As the days went by, the amount of instructions in the tome to be followed each day decreased gradually.

Increasingly, Aureate found himself following his own judgement when making decisions.

However, as the instructions decreased, the advice and information the pages contained increased.

Each day's entry featured information that would be near-impossible to gain any other way.

The decisions, troop movements and secret treaties of his surrounding kingdoms appeared before they were even made.

Production figures for his massively productive mines and brand-new factories were given months in advance.

With this wealth of knowledge at his disposal, his decisions appeared to his people to be guided by some sort of divine interference.

He improved the defences of a border fort days before a surprise attack by Grimm that would have destroyed it otherwise.

His troops moved to counter a planned raid by one of his rival warlords before the raiders had finished assembling, and despite dozens of secrecy measures.

He was far from perfect, making mistakes here and there, some secretly intentional to make him seem more human to his people. But every mistake he publicly admitted and moved quickly to correct.

Aureate had received no visits from the stranger since the rains had come, a full year before.

In that time he had begun to address the centuries-old inequalities that still dominated his country.

His first action had been to put into place additional laws against discrimination. In a country that still contained the remnants of the tribes his ancestors had united, discrimination against people of differing heritage was common.

His government had begun cracking down on this discrimination as if it was another violent enemy threatening their borders.

He had had surprisingly little difficulty in addressing discrimination against Faunus. His people seemed far more open to accepting Faunus than other humans who simply had different ancestry.

In his war against discrimination, his weapon was education.

The wealth the mines produced were hurled into a nationwide program of education, erecting dozens of schools in weeks.

Education was made a legal requirement, with all new schools being well-funded by the government.

But the greatest change to the country had been the rain.

Climatologist in other countries had determined the cause of the change.

An undersea volcanic mountain range had been stirred into a state of near-perpetual eruption that, if it had occurred on land, would likely have been the end of the world.

This influx of heat had changed the direction of two ocean currents, sending unimaginable quantities of warm, tropical water directly towards central Vacuo.

The massive influx of water vapour had caused a total upset of the region's climate.

The rains caused rampant erosion that nearly destroyed some areas, but transformed some others into bountiful, fertile farmland.

Tarchi and the surrounding area fell into the second category.

He had immediately sprung into action.

No-one owned the vast majority of the land, it having been completely useless mere weeks before, meaning that it was government-held.

The government divided up the land into farms, and offered them and equipment to work the land to any who would agree to be educated in agriculture.

The poorer citizens of Tarchi, and even the neighbouring regions, flooded to the region to take advantage of the offer.

Slowly, but surely, Tarchi grew.

But all was not well.

Grimm, once all but unheard of in the region, were appearing more and more frequently.

Aureate saw how his county began to take the same path as the Great Kingdoms, and the tome spoke of a future Tarchi consisting of a handful of settlements besieged by Grimm, unless he began acting immediately.

The pages he could read, which always increased as he completed the tasks on previous pages, contained dozens of actions to be performed each day.

But first they said to wait for three days.

Three days of indecision.

Three days of agonising over the catastrophe he knew was coming but was ordered not to prevent.

How many times he reached for his pen to prevent it he could not count.

But each time he caught himself.

His wife sensed the emotions seething within him, and spent hours each day simply holding him tightly to her without asking any questions.

He loved her all the more for it.

When it came, he did not need to feign his sorrow.

The town of Aurum, a town named in his honour, was destroyed by Grimm.

The avenging troops that rushed to its relief killed the monstrosities to find five survivors out of almost two thousand.

A man protecting his four infant sons against a Grimm, weaponless and alone.

As soon as the beast was felled by a hail of bullets, the man turned to his sons and smiled one last time before succumbing to his injuries.

Aureate arrived less than two hours later.

The news recording, taken without his knowledge by a soldier who took photographs as a hobby, was of him as he fell to his knees in the ashes of this symbol of Tarchi's prosperity, pounding the ground with his hands in impotent rage as he shouted that this would not happen again as long as he drew breath.

The footage was submitted to the national and international news, as well as the scroll network without his knowledge.

If his people respected and trusted him before, this display made them truly love their monarch.

The next day, hands bandaged, he made his official declaration regarding the event.

He announced that he would adopt the survivors as his sons.

He apologised to every citizen in advance for the tax increase he would announce.

The increase was small, and would have almost no effect on any citizen, but many would have, at that moment, accepted a tax increase of double the previous rate.

And he announced his latest plans for Tarchi.


	7. Chapter 7

The journey to Tarchi's greatness was long and arduous.

Tarchi was a very small country still, even though it was prospering.

Aureate worked tirelessly.

He had the entire system of laws changed, as suggested by the book, to be fair and just.

He built up the army slowly and surely, and created a citizen militia.

Every man was required to spend one day every month practising with a rifle, and Aureate ensured that every household had one.

The Grimm attacks subsided, but the memory of Aurum lived in a national holiday.

When Grimm did appear, well-trained soldiers or militiamen drove them off before any damage could be done.

With great relish, and to thunderous applause from his citizens, Aureate had the SDC thrown out of Tarchi.

It had been quite cathartic, ordering his men to evict every SDC employee from the country. They had surrounded the mines and had seized the infrastructure without any damage.

Many thousands of Faunus slaves had been freed, to be given farms in the expansion.

This had the additional benefit of eliminating the White Fang from Tarchi.

No more protests took place, and the country lived in peace.

Aureate began slowly expanding his borders.

Tarchi began to slowly develop from an agricultural backwater, as its well-funded education system produced a crop of engineers and teachers, scientists and psychologists.

Aureate was proud of what he had achieved.

His greatest joy, however, was his sons.

Mere months after he had adopted the four survivors of Aurum, Gratia had gotten pregnant.

No medical explanation could be found, and one doctor had even ventured so far as to call it a blessing for all Aureate's good deeds.

This left Aureate with a dilemma.

He had never planned for his death, because he had been too occupied with the present.

He decided to stop thinking about it.

His child was also a boy, which he and Gratia named Spero, or Hope in the old tongue of Vacuo.

His adopted sons had been far too young to know their true parents, and he raised them as his own.

He kept the names their parents had given them, which had been lovingly hand-embroidered on the baby clothes they had been wearing on the day Aurum died.

Nurgle, Khorne, Tzeentch and Slaanesh.

As they grew up, he saw the fraternal quadruplets take totally diverging paths.

Nurgle loved nature, and took up gardening as he grew older, followed by medicine.

Khorne was an active and lively child, who took up fencing and other activities of a military bent as soon as he could walk.

Tzeentch was a scholar through and through. Never to be seen without a book in his lap, and wise beyond his years.

Slaanesh was an artist and a musician, creating beautiful paintings and sculptures.

And all of them doted on Spero.

From a young age, it was obvious that Spero would be a good ruler. And it seemed that his brothers reached that conclusion independently and acted to make him the best ruler he could be.

Aureate was pleasantly surprised by this. It was clear that even if he should die unexpectedly, there would be no fight for the throne.

Spero lived a happy life.

He learned quickly, doing well in his lessons.

And every day one of his brothers was glad to make time for him.

Gardening and cooking with Nurgle instilled a love and respect for nature in Spero. He learned how the food the country needed was produced, and what caused a good or bad harvest.

Khorne was happy to play with Spero, despite his physical superiority. He also taught Spero many things about war and how a country needed to maintain an army to defend itself.

Tzeentch taught Spero the most about the world and how it worked. How people and nations interacted and how diplomacy kept the world running was drilled into Spero at a young age.

Slaanesh taught Spero how to appreciate art and the importance of monuments and great works to maintain national pride and the happiness of the people.

Aureate made time for his sons every day. Some days there wasn't much to be made, but never did any of them resent him.

His sons were extraordinary, though in different ways.

From their youth Aureate realised this, and the book also advised him on this matter.

The quadruplets were utterly specialised, and Aureate had them educated as such.

In matters of war, strategy, or combat Khorne had no equal.

In games of strategy, and later elaborate training exercises that pitted him against the greatest military minds in the world, he was undefeated.

Not even professional fighting men could best him in single combat, and after his aura was unlocked at Aureate's behest not even the most skilled professional huntsmen could.

An interesting development occurred when Khorne was 14 years old.

Aureate was negotiating with an independent territory which had ended up inside Tarchi's borders after he had annexed the country that had grown up around it.

The territory was a small one that existed due to the presence of an aura monastery. This monastery was a relic from an age before dust, before technology, when humanity's only weapon against Grimm had been aura. The monks within were the continuation of an order that had existed for thousands of years.

Aureate had finished negotiations with the head of the monastery, and the two of them were leaving the negotiation table when Khorne ran up to him and said that he wanted to train at "the place where you learn to break bricks with your SOUL!".

One of the junior monks had been demonstrating his abilities to the eager young man while he had been waiting for his superior to finish the negotiations.

The monks had no qualms, but it had taken Aureate and Khorne days to convince Gratia.

Spero and his brothers had missed their brother, but Khorne had taken great care to remain in touch with his family.

In this, as in all things related to battle, Khorne excelled.

The head monk himself took him as a student, and wrote in secret to Aureate saying that "only in age and experience can I still claim to be your son's better. In all other things has he surpassed me, and in less time than I ever thought possible."

It had taken Khorne only a year to achieve what took most men their entire lives, and he returned triumphantly a fully-fledged aura master.

Which did little to soothe the many punishments his mother devised after she discovered that the mark of an aura master was a series of intricate tattoos, which he had received without telling her.

Nurgle, at the age of 15, received a medical degree that would allow him to practise as a physician in any kingdom.

He knew everything there was to know about plants and animals, being able to debate men many years his senior concerning their characteristics.

He built a series of greenhouses, growing plant from every continent.

His suggestions concerning food crops and crop rotation held weight even in the official circles of the department of agriculture.

He developed a new form of grain that provided better yield in Tarchi's climate and soil than any other variety, for which he received a medal that Aureate presented him with in an official ceremony which was unfortunately kept secret to avoid accusations of nepotism.

He never minded, saying confidently that when he grew up he would do something better and get another one in public.

Slaanesh's sculptures and paintings, published under an assumed name, were treasured by collectors and galleries all over Remnant.

Some works, though, he never revealed to any but his family and some officials, saying that they were unsuitable for the public eye.

All who saw them agreed.

Sculptures of horrifying monsters and grotesque abominations, scenes of terror and carnage.

These were the material of the artworks he kept in a few private rooms of the palace.

Aureate consulted a psychologist in secret, but the woman told him not to fear. She said that all truly creative people had a dark side, and that the same mind that conceived his works of beauty must also conceive these darker ones.

"I would be far more concerned if he made no such things, as then surely his dark side would manifest in cruelty or depression."

Aureate relayed this information to his wife, who agreed with the argument.

That Slaanesh had a dark side was unmissable to any who spent time with him, and so Aureate and Gratia felt secure in the knowledge that he locked this dark side away in sculptures and paintings, which he sequestered where they would offend as few as possible.

Spero learned from his brothers, but did not lose himself in any one direction as they had.

He was a generalist, knowing much about anything that was needed, but not all.

His education was geared to prepare him for the throne, leaving him little time for achievements like those of his brothers.

Only once did he ever feel inferior due to this, and then Tzeentch took him aside and explained that everything he was doing was mere preparation for his great work of ruling, which would be far more impressive than anything they could achieve.

The ever humble Spero had answered that it would be hard work to compare to his brothers, but that he would do his best.

Tzeentch was an oddity.

He never stood out, always blending into the background.

He was the glue that held the family together, helping his brothers to find common topics of conversation despite their differing interests.

He helped with schoolwork, explaining things until his siblings understood perfectly.

He could hold a conversation with the most learned men in any field, being able to ask insightful questions on any topic.

He often accompanied Aureate on official business, ever attentive.

Never did his actions draw the eye, but in his own way he did as much as any of his brothers.

It was Tzeentch that first suggested to Aureate that Tarchi should have its own huntsman academy.


	8. Author's note 1

Author's note:

And so the inevitable "chaos gods go to beacon" part of the story emerges.

The reason is because this is a FanFic, and that is presumably why anyone is reading this.

The in-universe explanation is that:

Only Tzeentch is really enjoying this whole country building thing, since the violent part is over and the only real thing for any of them to do is allow a certain amount of time to pass before they do anything.

Being in human form means they lose less precious energy to the cold vacuum of the void, and making a body with built-in powers means that no additional energy is required.

The reason they aren't going to be behaving in their 40k way is because that would be really tedious.

Let me quote the wiki for Khorne:

"Khorne is the Blood God, Lord of Rage, Taker of Skulls. He is wrath incarnate, the embodiment of a never-ending lust to dominate and destroy. It is his sole desire to drown the galaxy in a tide of slaughter, to conquer and kill every living thing until there is nothing left but spilt blood and shattered bone."

"His every word is a growl of endless fury, and his roars of bloodlust echo across his realm."

Can you see the problem with making this an interesting character?

So, my reasoning is thus:

The reason they are like this is because they are the product of humanity.

They are composed of our darkest desires, and were created by the worst period of our history.

The world of RWBY is very different.

Grimm are the product of negative emotions, so the government presumably has more thought policing going on than the USSR.

The world has like 4 cities, and some tiny settlements here and there.

So the population must be _**TINY**_ , meaning there simply wasn't enough anger, lust, scheming or fear to sustain the original Ruinous Powers.

That doesn't mean they would completely change, I mean come on, but that would force either their inevitable self-destruction or a change of perspective.

Think of it in terms of a rich brat that suddenly finds themselves broke.

They either become a different person and adapt to their environment, or destroy themselves.

To that end, this story.

These brats have decided that they are going to adapt and survive no matter what.

Does that mean Khorne is going to turn into Ghandi? No.

Does it mean he will be able to string a sentence together, and know when straight up murdering everyone in the room would be counterproductive if he wants his eternity of bloodshed? 

Yes.

Thank you for reading, I will try to make a suitably impressive arrival chapter.


	9. Author's revelation

**So I was sending a message to TheShadowOfZama explaining why the story is changing directions, but along the way I talked myself into not changing directions after all.**

 **Shitty crossovers are a dime a dozen, but this is what I can do.**

 **I sent the message, and have decided to post it here.**

 **I will add the text from his review (It feels like this should have been a PM, but maybe I missed the massage and he knew a new author would be checking the reviews) at the top.**

 **I would like to point out that peace is good for this empire, because the chaos gods are playing a long game here and are holding back because if they wait until this is a galaxy-spanning empire before having comparatively small wars raging and small plagues it will be more if they manage to keep it working for millions of years.**

* * *

Nice seeing Tarchi becoming stronger and stronger. I enjoy the...state building parts of a story if properly done. The chaos gods have been given a physical form so that's a thing. I am assuming that they have plans for Speko, he probably acts as a neatural ground. If Khorne for example took charge the other three would take offence, so I am assuming Speko is a puppet of sorts through which all of them can rule in a sense.

Good to see Slaanesh obviously remembering the end goal with his portraits. That said I have a question.

You gave a nice explanation why the Ruinious Powers decided to get bodies and why they underwent a change of character to an extent. However you failed to mention how in anyway a huntsman academy would assist their plans. Huntsmen are a symbol of everything the Chaos gods don't want.

Tarchi is rich, fertile, united and patriotistic. Everything you need in order to harnass imperialistic ambitions which is their plan. Building an empire spanning the stars is their end goal, so I would like an explanation how an Huntsman academy is going to help with that. Huntsmen promoto peace and are only good against Grimm not so much against trained military forces.

Besides you don't need a huntsman academy to get some elite mooks for your army. Specialised programs such as real life navy SEALS or Task Force...6 I think (the soldiers picked from SEALS with combat experience, so basically even more elite SEALS) get you your elite mooks too.

All of their decisions have made sense to further their end goal, but a Huntsman academy that promotes peace and stability sounds counter productive to getting your star spanning imperium. Any good reason for this stagnation of expansion?

Your argument that people read this in order for the Chaos gods go to Beacon is at least wrong for me personally. To be fair I thought this story was going to be how the Chaos gods assisted one country (Tarchi) to become the 'evil' empire threatening the kingdoms and by extension the huntsmen and huntresses in order to get their star spanning empire. That's the story I expected  
after reading a couple of chapters.

I honestly don't enjoy the premise of the Chaos gods going to Beacon/Huntsman academy at all. Hell all four of them would beat everybody there, Khorne is already confirmed to be capable of doing this in your story. So yeah I would appreciate an explanation why they would go to school instead of making work of their imperialistic ambitions.

* * *

You know what?

You do have a point.

Maybe I will continue with the story as it is, and separate the beacon stuff into a separate one.

However, I do not agree with your point that huntsmen are unnecessary.

Could the system work without them?

Yes.

Are they a relatively big deal?

Also yes.

Huntsmen could fulfill much the same role as the space marines, being a nice heavy hammer to bludgeon things with.

Consider, if you will, how many people it would take to take down a huntsman, realistically.

Yang survives hitting solid marble at terminal velocity.

That would be damn impressive in 40k. Drop pods don't hit the ground at terminal velocity, they just decelerate at the last minute at a rate only a space marine could survive.

In addition, the other physical feats people with aura can achieve are ludicrous.

A professional huntsman hitting you with whatever buls**t thing they seem to think is a weapon would kill you. In one hit.

No armor is gonna block that.

Your opinion is valuable and has changed my own perspective, but let me try to change it:

The four kingdoms are fucked.

Vale is apparently one city and like two villages.

There have been no attempts to expand it since the mountain thing.

Unless controlled strictly, it is human nature to expand to incorporate new territory and resources.

This is consistent with a sci-fi story by the name of Deathworld, which I recommend you read in unrelated news.

And like Pyrrus in Deathworld, Remnant is screwed.

Think about it.

Unless the other kingdoms have populations hundreds of times bigger than Vale, the only thing propping up humanity's continued existence on Remnant is Technology.

And yet the virus Cinder has removes that advantage.

Imagine if that virus had been employed in Atlas.

If they could afford to send that many robots just cuz, they must have more.

The famous atlasian army probably consists of at least 10 robots to each man.

Again, the Deathworld comparison springs to mind.

If Salem mounts a full scale assault, it doesn't matter if 100 Grimm die for each human, because the Grimm are infinite.

I have gotten really off topic, haven't I?

Anyway, Tarchi is not like this.

In the show, the small towns seem remarkably free of Grimm.

Grimm are all over the initiation forest, which i assume is the same one Vale has a massive wall to protect them from.

And yet these little towns can survive.

Simply put, I think Salem is prioritizing a fair bit, smacking humanity down whenever it begins to rise.

That being said, how did humanity survive before dust? Before guns?

Therefore, I propose that the factor which increases Salem's power and therefore the amount of Grimm is development.

When Tarchi was a backwater with no important features, Grimm were unheard of.

That is why it has more than one city, at least in my head. I realise i hadn't mentioned that.

Assume that Vale is the size of literally the biggest city in the world, and houses 33,2 million people.

Tarchi has many similarities to my home, South Africa. An economy powered by mining, a backwards culture. It has 54 million citizens.

A bigger population, with a system like Tarchi's, could have one important effect:

If Vale manages to passively generate however many huntsmen it has, how many huntsmen could you make if you threw a nation like Tarchi at it, with an aggressive program, perhaps tax incentives or a legal requirement like Tarchi has for the militia.

Of course with number comes worse quality, but there is a difference between 1000 (lets give Vale a generous estimate, but this is generous with how high-risk the occupation must be) and 500000 slightly sub-par huntsmen.

Actually, wait.

Now that I've been writing for a while, I realise I want to continue as is.

I think I will post this instead of the next chapter, and get back to worldbuilding now..

 **I am already planning more worldbuilding.**

rc48177: please be assured that I will try and keep this subtle for now, but will try and deliver some payoff when the inevitable Empire gets formed

sir brocktree: I will try and have more soon. The meantime, if you are bored, pop over to and read "The pirates of Zan" while you wait.

And last of all, TheShadowOfZama: I appreciate the commentary, and will try to keep the format you enjoy as long as possible.

 **Some further notes on the future of the story:**

 **Traffic figures indicate that most of my readers are American, and so I am switching to American measurements. (Why do you guys have to use different ones!)**

 **I am getting rid of the Beacon idea, although I may still write those if there is any demand and put them in a different story which will be connected to this one.**

 **I name characters by using Google Translate to change everything to Latin.**

 **And TheShadowOfZama, maybe the next chapter will change your mind about the huntsman academy idea (here is a hint, you might try google translate yourself)**


	10. Chapter 8

Aureate gazed upon his work with a smile.

All around him stood his family, looking with admiration.

In the small valley before them was a sprawling complex of tents and temporary buildings, although on one side the construction of more permanent ones had commenced.

This was Bellum academy.

The largest facility for the training of Huntsmen in history.

Almost ten thousand young men and women were in the tents below, volunteers to be a part of this massive step in Tarchi's development.

In a year, there would be twenty thousand.

By the time these first ones graduated, Aureate's advisors projected that each year would produce upwards of fifteen thousand huntsmen.

Tarchi could sustain this rate only because it's population was so massive.

The Great Kingdoms, for all their vaunted power, contained only one or two cities each.

In the decade since its golden age had begun, Tarchi had grown to encompass over two dozen. Small cities that had once served as the capitals of small territories had been united under one banner.

Over a hundred million souls called Tarchi their home.

And with plentiful food and massive demand for labour in the constant expansion and improvement projects, there was no longer hardship in Tarchi.

Where once drought had tormented the population, there was now plentiful water from the frequent rains.

Where once foreign companies had kept the region in turmoil, there were no more foreign companies in the region.

Where once rival warlords had warred, now there was only Tarchi.

Aureate smiled happily, patting Tzeentch on the back as the two gazed upon the great work envisioned by the latter and made real by the former.

Gratia called to them, and they made their way to the picnic that had been laid out on the grass nearby.

Two guards stood a small distance away, holding their silent vigil.

Two more were escorting the reporters that had been invited to the grand reveal that would begin shortly.

Aureate was one or two swivel their cameras towards the picnic, and turned to smile at the camera for a photograph or two before returning his attention to his family.

The book had once again been correct in its predictions.

Three weeks of clear weather had hastened the construction of this proud monument to Tarchi's future.

And yet rain had persisted across the agricultural regions of Tarchi, promising another bountiful harvest.

He accepted a glass of wine from Gratia, leaning back to enjoy the sun.

Once the sun had beaten down on Tarchi, a baleful heat that had dried the ground and killed indiscriminately.

Now it was a gentle caress, a blessing to the farms and orchards that fed the Blessed Nation, as some had started to call it.

And then the silence shattered.

From the nearest edge of the woodland that crowned the hills around the valley came a sound like a low curse, shortly followed by a flurry of activity.

Aureate sprang to his feet just in time to see two men in camouflage clothing stand up, weapons trained on him and his family.

One of his guards acted immediately, raising his rifle and turning towards the men with a shout.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

One of the men turned to fire at the guards, one guard falling to the first burst of fire.

The second turned his weapon towards Aureate and his family, stepping out of the bushes for an unobstructed view.

Aureate could almost see the finger tightening on the trigger.

Then, suddenly, the man went limp, falling to the ground.

His companion turned his own weapon towards the picnic, movements almost frantic.

He hurled a small object at Aureate, before returning his hand to its former position steadying the gun.

He too went limp and fell.

The object landed at Aureate's feet, bouncing once before coming to a halt an inch from Aureate's left foot.

For several seconds nothing happened.

The guard who had been shot stood up, one hand clutching his shoulder.

All had been recorded by the lucky reporters who had had their cameras turned to the family as they were having a picnic.

Investigation revealed a third man, lying dead draped across a strange rifle in the underbrush.

The autopsy revealed the same cause of death for all of them: Total failure of every organ in their body.

The object that had landed at Aureate's feet had been a grenade, which had failed to detonate.

Shaken by the ordeal, Aureate had postponed the official opening ceremony for two hours so that a search could be mounted for further assassins, before performing the opening ceremony. He made sure to send his family back to the palace first, just in case.

The ceremony was uneventful.

The lessons at the academy had begun days before, retired huntsmen and monks from the aura monastery teaching classes of eager students how to use the strength of their souls.

Roads and railways connected the academy to nearby towns and cities, and a large airfield was under construction that would enable training exercises against Grimm to take place outside the kingdom where Grimm could be found.

Aureate walked into a few classrooms, smiling and complimenting, to keep morale high.

The classes were large, with forty or more students each.

This would be remedied as teachers were imported from other kingdoms, and Aureate offered high salaries to attract as many as possible.

His next duty for the day was visiting one of the weapon research laboratories he's established to see some of the latest prototypes in action.

The head researcher gave him a tour of the facility, and introduced him to some of the staff.

One man caught his eye.

The man was respectful but abrupt and cynical.

He worked alone in a large room with piles of components strewn about and half-assembled objects stacked on tables.

After leaving the room the head researcher informed him that the man was their most prolific and eccentric staff members, taking Aureate to see one of the man's prototypes in action.

The prototype in question was a massive cannon-like object that fired shells the size of a man's fist at an incredible rate.

The demonstration involved the cannon hammering a sheet of tank armour into tiny shreds in seconds.

He was informed that the massive shells were also one of the man's creations.

He immediately signed an order prioritising the study of the weapon, as the tome had suggested.

The image of such a cannon being used to destroy a massive horde of Grimm brought a smile to his face.


End file.
